


Hypothetically Speaking

by brokibrodinson



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Father/Daughter Incest, Female!Connor, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3378911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokibrodinson/pseuds/brokibrodinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor has a question.<br/>She doesn't expect an answer, but she certainly gets one.</p><p>Now complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is such a dumb fic, it was just a silly little plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote the damn thing.  
> Looking at it now, I'm not even sure what I was trying to achieve, except maybe frustration - for all of us.  
> I _might_ write a second part? I'll see how I go.

“Hypothetically speaking,” Connor began, her voice muffled from how she was resting her head on her arms, “if you were going to have sex with me, how would you do it?”

Haytham stopped in the motion of smoothing out his tie, before rolling his eyes and continuing to put it away in his drawer. “I would have thought you were old enough to know how sex works by now,” he said dryly. “Why are you asking?”

Connor shrugged, stretching her body out further where she was sprawled out on her stomach on Haytham’s bed. “I guess I want to make sure my mom wasn’t ripped off,” she murmured.

Her father sighed quietly. He’d heard of daughters playing such games with their fathers, wishing to practise their flirtations on a safe target before expanding their horizons.

He supposed he could play along; not to encourage such behaviour, no, but rather to discourage it. For surely Connor would break and run at the first feeling of wrongness and discomfort.

“Hypothetically speaking?” he repeated. “Well for starters I’d want you on your back. Easier access you see,” he said matter-of-factly.

Connor raised her head to fix Haytham with a confused look, obviously not expecting Haytham to indulge her rather inappropriate question.

“Like this?” she asked, and twisted so she was lying on her back, propping herself up on her elbows so she could see Haytham better.

Haytham nodded. “Exactly.” He smiled slightly and asked “Have we had any foreplay yet?”

“No?” Connor replied uncertainly.

“Ah, well,” Haytham’s smile became positively wolf-like. “We can’t have that.” He approached the bed, noting Connor’s quizzical look – she obviously didn’t expect him to do anything.

Well she was right; he wouldn’t actually do anything that could be considered improper. Just close enough that they both knew what things he was _implying_.

Despite such thoughts, he figured he could probably just get away with straddling her, as long as she was able to escape if it became too much for her.

He knelt on the bed and moved so he was hovering above her, knees on either side of her hips, and bent down slightly.

Connor looked wary but not uncomfortable as he reached down to brush a stray strand of hair from her face.

Even such a simple gesture changed the atmosphere instantly. The air between them suddenly felt electric, charged with some as yet unnameable tension.

“First,” Haytham said, “I expect I would probably kiss you.” He lowered himself slowly, letting his mouth hover above Connor’s just long enough that he saw her pupils dilate in surprise, before moving up higher to instead press a soft kiss to her forehead.

He smirked at Connor’s audible exhale, but did not comment.

“Then,” he continued, “I would touch you.”

“Where?” Connor asked, voice slightly breathless, her eyes daring him to answer.

Haytham looked her clothed body up and down appraisingly, wondering how much he could get away with.

Slowly, he reached out with one hand and let his fingers brush against the fabric of her shirt, beginning at her collarbone and dragging lightly down her torso, so very lightly that she could probably barely feel the contact against her skin.

Despite this Connor held herself very still, nearly trembling with the effort of holding her breath and not making a sound.

Haytham suppressed a smirk as he let the very tips of his fingers brush her left breast ever so lightly, not commenting on Connor’s sharp intake of breath as he grazed her nipple.

His hand continued down her body, tracing the curve of her, from her ribs along her waist and down to her hip.

 “And then,” Haytham said carelessly, shifting positions slightly so their bodies were more or less level with each other, “ _hypothetically speaking_ ,” he settled both hands on her waist. “I would fuck you.” And he brought his pelvis down in one meaningful thrust between her denim-clad thighs.

Connor stared at him in utter shock for a few seconds, then was up and out from under him and through the door like a fleeing animal.

Haytham watched her go, then sat on the edge of his bed and chuckled.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confused and frustrated, Connor finally confronts Haytham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with two more chapters!
> 
> Look I won't lie, I think these two later chapters pale in comparison to the first, but I felt like I needed to write some kind of conclusion, so I did.
> 
> That said, feel free to read these later two and then immediately forget about them, I really think the first one still works as a standalone.

It was almost a week before Connor could look her father in the face again. For his part, Haytham had behaved like everything was perfectly normal. Connor couldn’t understand it;  _her_ feelings were in complete turmoil.

She couldn’t figure out if what she was feeling was just regular old sexual frustration, or something else she dared not think about. She had to, though. She had to figure out why she was such a mess.

She should never have asked such a stupid question in the first place, she thought crossly. Then she’d never have to deal with such troubling thoughts as the possibility she might desire her father.

Connor didn’t know what to do. She thought that maybe she could just wait and the disturbing feelings would fade away on their own, but in the meantime the thoughts she was having were truly unbearable.

She wanted Haytham.

She wanted him so much she thought she might explode.

As much as she tried to stamp down on the feelings, she could still feel them simmering within her, raw and sharp with need every time she was so much in the same room as him.

Something had to be done.

It wasn’t until she was lying awake on night, frustrated and confused, that the idea came to her.

Perhaps she had asked the question, but her father hadn’t  _had_ to go as far as he had.

Connor wondered if there weren’t some desires of his own that Haytham was suppressing.

The next morning she wandered into the kitchen and was amused to find Haytham still looking sleepily rumpled as he sipped his first coffee of the day and read the paper.

“Returned to the land of the living have you?” he asked wryly, referring to the way Connor had more or less cloistered herself in her room since... the incident.

Connor rolled her eyes, sidling up to where Haytham was sitting at the kitchen bench. She waited until he had twisted on his chair to look at her and then moved so she was standing in between his legs. 

He gave her a quizzical look. “What do you think you’re up to?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Connor began, willing her voice not to waver. “And I was wondering if you could give me a repeat demonstration of-”

“What is this about, Connor?” Haytham interrupted, looking irritated. “What do you hope to gain from these games?”

‘“Games?’” Connor repeated, stung. “ _You’re_  the one who’s playing games. Surely you didn’t think you could get away with that stunt you pulled last week without there being consequences.”

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘consequences?’” Haytham inquired impatiently.

Connor looked at him hard, taking in the angles and lines of his face, and how his voice grew rough when he was annoyed. She took a deep breath, her desire for him burning hotly in her veins. He was so  _close_. 

A dozen things were running through her head; how she wished she dared press herself against his body and breathe in the scent of coffee and the clean smell of his cologne. How many times this past week had she dreamed of being trapped beneath him, feeling his hands and mouth all over, hot and unrelenting? Sometimes she even dared wonder what he would feel like  _inside_ her, though she usually managed to halt those thoughts before they could progress any further.

She shouldn't be having these thoughts about Haytham and she knew it, but the harder she tried to push them away, the more they seemed to flood her imagination. 

She could only hope what she was about to do would leave her father just as flustered as she had been feeling.

“I'll show you,” she murmured, and stepped closer, in between his thighs. She felt him stiffen in surprise but ignored it, leaning in so she could kiss him hard on the mouth, sharp and aggressive.

Perhaps in ideal circumstances such a kiss would have been more tender, she thought absently, but this wasn't an expression of affection. This was pure retribution, her lips rough and unyielding against his. 

Satisfied that her message had gotten across, Connor made to pull away again, ready to stalk silently back into her room.

The sound of a coffee cup being placed down on the smooth surface of the bench was all the warning she received before a strong hand had grabbed her wrist and forced her to stop where she stood.

"Connor," Haytham said sternly. "This must stop this instant." He sounded a little out of breath, Connor thought with some satisfaction.

"Then tell me how," she snarled back, pulling her wrist free. "Because nothing I've tried has worked."

Her father stared at her for a moment. "You're actually serious, aren't you," he said at last, stunned. "I thought you were just practising or something equally daft, but you actually...-" he broke off, not able to finish his sentence.

"I what?" Connor snapped, adrenaline combining with her earlier lust until she was raring for a fight. "Want you to fuck me?"

"Not _quite_ what I was about to say," Haytham replied. "For God's sake, Connor, you're my daughter! I may not be the best father in the world, but I will not descend to indulging you in this, frankly, abominable behaviour."

He had lost his temper at last, Connor noted.

"Then what was last week about?" she demanded.

"Last week was an attempt to frighten you enough that you would never ask such inappropriate questions again," Haytham replied. "Though I see I've clearly failed in that regard."

"Yes," Connor said bitterly. "You have." 

She left without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surrender at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I'm so dissatisfied with this chapter.
> 
> I'll try to restrain myself from deleting it in a fit of pique lmao

Things were unbearably tense between father and daughter over the next few days. They barely said a word to each other, Connor fuming, Haytham still puzzled and a little guilty.

It seemed it was his fault that she had developed such feelings for him, where before there had been only idle curiosity.

He didn’t know what to do.

On top of that, a small seed of curiosity seemed to have been planted in his mind, making him wonder occasionally if it truly would be so terrible to give Connor what she wanted and get it out of her system. Disturbingly, while he was still morally opposed to such an option, he felt no disgust at the notion.

As the days went on, increasingly he caught himself thinking some considerably troubling thoughts. Would her kisses always be so rough? Was her throat sensitive like her mother’s had been? Even worse; would she squirm and mewl beneath him, or snarl and rake his back with her nails as he moved above her?

It was sinful, depraved, shameful. It was also fascinating, and he couldn’t seem to stop.

Haytham sometimes wondered if Connor ever caught wind of his thoughts; she certainly gave him some strange looks sometimes. But then perhaps that was just her attempting to repress her own sordid imaginings.

The fact that Connor was thinking similar things to him didn’t make Haytham’s situation any easier. He wondered if her thoughts were as detailed, as flagrantly pornographic as his own.

Would it be so terrible to give in? Would she want him more than once, perhaps twice, anyway? She was young, and youth was fickle - surely she would satisfy her curiosity and move on to someone more suitable afterwards?

That was what he tried to convince himself as he felt his resolve slowly crumble.

The two of them were like fuses ready to be lit; the slightest friction would inevitably result in explosion.

It wasn’t long until the spark had been struck.

It was a simple thing that did it, stupid really, Haytham would later think ruefully.

The two of them had been carefully avoiding each other for days, so when Haytham came into the living room and found Connor sprawled out on the couch, remote in hand and watching some kind of animal documentary, he nearly walked back out again.

He straightened his spine, irritated. This was _his_ house; he’d do as he pleased, regardless of Connor.

He walked over and settled into his favourite chair, stretching his hand out to Connor without looking at her. “Remote please.”

“I’m watching this,” Connor said calmly without moving.

“I don’t care, my show’s on,” Haytham retorted. “Pass it over please.”

Connor turned her head slightly to fix him with her dark gaze. “Make me.”

Haytham didn’t believe what he was hearing. “Don’t be so childish,” he snapped. “Hand it over.”

Connor’s expression was suspiciously close to a smirk. “Make. Me,” she repeated slowly.

He knew she was trying to provoke him. He knew it perfectly well. It didn’t stop it from working.

He rose to his feet with an irritated growl, meaning to snatch it from her grip before she could react.

She’d been expecting him to move of course, and quickly stashed it on the couch underneath her, then gave him a look that seemed to say ‘now what?’

The thought did occur to Haytham to simply leave it, to walk away and not engage her petty games. The tension of the past week had risen up and engulfed him however, and he knew he couldn’t let this lie.

“You’re testing my limits, Connor,” he snarled, frustrated with both her and his own weakened resolve.

It would be so easy to simply fall upon her where she lay, to explore every inch of her until she was reduced to nothing but helpless moans. It would be _easy_.

In the end Connor didn’t give him a choice, grabbing a handful of his shirt and _pulling_ until he was forced to catch himself with his hands against the couch.

At the same time, Connor had surged upwards to meet him, wrapping her other arm around his back to bring him closer. There she paused, her face scarcely an inch away from his, their breaths intermingling.

It was too much for Haytham. The sudden closeness spurred his instincts into action, and he closed the distance between them to crush his mouth against hers.

That was all it took; before either of them knew it, Haytham’s body was covering hers on the couch and they were kissing like their lives depended on it, hungry and harsh, teeth catching on lips and tongues conflicting.

There was no time to think; they simply _did_. Before they knew it, half their clothes had been removed and Connor was groaning as Haytham kissed and licked at her throat, fingers teasing a sensitive nipple.

Abandoning all sense of decency, Connor shifted so she could wrap her legs around Haytham’s waist and grind up against his cock, revelling in its hardness.

The motion made Haytham hiss in surprised pleasure and he rewarded her with a deep, lingering kiss that left her breathless when he pulled away again.

They removed the rest of their clothes in short order, though Connor looked immediately uncertain as she eyed Haytham’s erection.

“Having second thoughts?” Haytham asked, voice husky with want.

Connor shook her head. “No, I just... Do you have any condoms?”

“Oh.” Haytham was secretly relieved. “Yes. I think so. Come with me,” he led her to his bedroom and produced a condom from one of his drawers.

He was halfway to turning back around when Connor gripped him around the waist and pulled him close, kissing him ravenously and tugging him along as she backed up towards the bed.

Haytham did not resist, easing Connor down onto the bed and pausing only to unwrap the condom and put it on before he joined her.

Connor welcomed him with open arms, and while the immorality of the situation had yet to escape him, it was with little hesitation that Haytham parted his daughter’s thighs and entered her in one smooth thrust, just like he’d demonstrated over a week ago.

Connor gasped, her fingers digging into the bare skin of Haytham’s back as he began to move.

After so long fantasising about it – he could admit it had been fantasising now – it was immensely satisfying for Haytham to feel her skin all pressed up against his, her long legs keeping him where she wanted him, the sharp pinpricks of her nails against his unprotected back.

She was wild beneath him, untamed and beautiful in her abandon as she rocked her hips to meet him on each thrust, the most intoxicating moans spilling from her lips.

Haytham was enchanted, unable to keep his eyes from her as he fucked her to completion.

Connor came first, with a strangled cry of rapture, her spine curving up off the bed as she was hit with the full force of her orgasm.

The sight of her alone was enough to finish Haytham off, and he groaned as he rocked into her one final time before more or less collapsing on top of her.

Connor didn’t seem to mind, wordlessly nuzzling closer as Haytham caught his breath and making a quiet noise of complaint when he pulled away again so he could discard the used condom in the bin.

He returned swiftly, lying back down on the bed so Connor could curl against him sleepily, eyelids sliding closed.

Perhaps Haytham should feel guilty, but it was difficult when he was feeling so lazy and satisfied, pressing light kisses to the soft skin of his daughter’s throat.

Even more so when she simply tilted her head back to bare more of her skin with a muted sound of pleasure.

He had been foolish to think he could give in without any lasting effects on his own psyche, but he felt no particular concern for the future.

Perhaps Connor would move on, perhaps she wouldn’t.

In that moment it hardly seemed to matter.

For the time being he had her all to himself and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

Connor wasn’t sure how she was meant to feel when she woke up again several hours later. Guilt perhaps? Regret? Either seemed appropriate, but the only emotion she could put a name to was disbelief.

Had Haytham actually given in and taken her on this bed, the bed that had started this whole debacle in the first place? Was it truly because of him that she felt so sore and sated, feeling bruises beginning to form across her skin? Had her father really indulged her terrible imaginings and wild fantasies that she’d been conjuring all week?

Yes, disbelief seemed apt.

Yet when she twisted on the bed and turned over, it was indeed Haytham who was lying next to her, still sleeping.

Connor had to bite down on her fist to stifle an involuntary yelp of surprise.

Forcing herself to calm down, she took the time to admire the relaxed peacefulness of his sleeping face, taking in his features with quiet delight.

A flush of warmth grew in her chest the longer she looked at him, filling her with a surge of affection for her father.

Sliding closer, she carefully lined her body up with his so she could press as much of herself against him as she was able, enjoying the feeling of her breasts brushing his warm skin and marvelling at the coiled power of him.

While he wasn’t overtly built, there was real strength in those lean muscles of his, as she’d experienced first-hand when he’d been gripping her waist, holding her down...

Connor flushed despite herself, pushing the thought away in favour of closing her eyes and letting her long frame meld against his.

Her last thought before she fell back asleep was of triumph.

**Author's Note:**

> smh


End file.
